


The Unforeseen Chance

by Cottonkit, Spacefrost



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cunning Draco Malfoy, Dark Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy-centric, Gen, Help, I am starting to hate politics, Independent Draco Malfoy, Morally Grey Draco Malfoy, POV Draco Malfoy, Political Draco Malfoy, Smart Draco Malfoy, Who understands politics, why am i killing myself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 16,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23818948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cottonkit/pseuds/Cottonkit, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacefrost/pseuds/Spacefrost
Summary: At the end of the third year, what if Draco decided to take a late-night walk outside? And coincidentally, sees a suspicious potions master hurrying towards a feral tree? What if... He decided to investigate?Mainly written by Spacefrost. Beta-d by Cottonkit (Or whatever name it will be changed to)
Comments: 69
Kudos: 315





	1. Who's There?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Well, this is my very first Fanwork. I'm pretty sure I got all the tabs right, but if you guys find anything wrong, please notify me! I've never read a Draco fanwork about What-if's before, so I just kinda decided why not. Also, I know I switch between first-person and third-person a lot, so you guys can remind me when that happens. :)

Draco was bored. It wasn’t as if writing a history essay is “fun” in any way. Why was that god forsaken ghost still teaching? Oh right, because Albus-fricking-Dumbledore said so.

Sighing slightly, Draco looked mournfully at his still empty piece of parchment. Maybe he could do it tomorrow, or he’ll just not do it and hand in an essay copied word-for-word from the textbook. He had done that before, and guess what? Full marks.

Deciding the cool night air would calm his throbbing tension headache, Draco cleaned up his excess parchments, placed all his quills and inkpots back in his bag, and made sure everything was prepared for tomorrow. With a wry smile, he slipped on his winter robes with inlaid warming charms. All that preparation was simply so that when he came back, he could sleep immediately without scurrying around tomorrow trying to get everything in order.

Silent steps moved up the dungeon staircases. Since every Slytherin knew the professor patrols by heart, and only Slytherin prefects would know where their fellow housemates could hide (no Slytherin would betray one of their own house). Ms. Norris was the only line of defense against wandering snakes. Around this time, she should be hunting. Either on the grounds or near the kitchens, and very rarely, in the dungeons. Who in their right mind would go into the drafty dungeons to score a scrawny piece of rat meat when they could be eating the heavenly food house-elves made?

Up, up, up the staircases go.

Finally, Draco surfaced. Taking a walk in one of the lesser-used ground level corridors, he strolled along, mind wandering. That is, wandering until he saw his head of house outside the window.

What could Snape be doing? It’s the full moon tonight, isn’t he supposed to be with the werewolf (yes, all pureblood children were informed of the anomaly by their parents), and not off on the grounds going who-knows-where?

Subconsciously, Draco fingered his wand and silver bracelet. No doubt the headmaster would look down upon carrying weapons, but no one said transfiguration wasn’t allowed. All it needed was a flick of his wrist, and the bracelet would shift into a dagger. However, just because he was adequately armed doesn’t mean he’s not pissed at his Godfather for abandoning his post. Quickly and stealthily he crept down the passage and onto the grounds. Completely ready to give his Godfather the royal dressing down for endangering multiple lives, mainly his own.

But then… His Godfather froze the Whomping-Willow and disappeared between its roots.

Excuse me? No, what the HELL?

When Draco reached the roots of the tree, its branches were still frozen. He could clearly see a gaping hole that looked like a tunnel of sorts. However, before he could decide what to do, the feral tree started thrashing again. Resulting in what he would later call the worst split-second decision ever. He jumped into the hole of mysteries.

…Wow great job Draco, you just jumped into a hole you know nothing about, this is exactly what you call cunningness! What a great Slytherin you are!

Regardless, he’s here now. He could just hear Snape’s footsteps up ahead; he couldn’t see anything though. Weird.

Deciding he might as well see what’s going on, he followed the dark and clearly unhygienic tunnel, voices were soon heard up ahead.

Was that Potter’s voice! Wonder what the precious Golden Boy could be doing out here. Maybe this secret tunnel is how he got into Hogsmeade earlier this year...

As he emerged into a shack, for that is what this poor excuse of a house is, the voices were as clear as ever. Not a floorboard creaked under his weight as he ascended the stairs. Yes, definitely Potter and Weasel’s voice. Granger seems to be there too. The werewolf and Snape are here as well. There’s one last person… But he doesn’t seem to be anyone Draco knows.  
He let his wand shoot out of his holster, and quickly applied a disillusionment charm, Scent-covering charm, and silencing charm. Pressing his back against a wall beside the open door, he eavesdropped on what the group were saying.

"...Black...Merlin...Award..."

Okay, Black. How many Blacks are still alive? There's aunt Andromeda and her family, but they prefer the last name Tonks. Reward? Sirius Black? Could it be? How did he get through the thrice-damned dementors? Unless, he secretly knew the Patronus charm? But then the officials in the ministry should have been alerted to the anomalies in the dementor packs' movement (A.K.A. his father should have heard something).

"STUPEFY!"

His eyes widening, Draco swiftly turned around to face the open doorway. In another split-second, his brain registered the red-tinted spell heading towards his Godfather.


	2. How do I know I can trust you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll notice how I now have a co-creator. AspenChaos had sportingly agreed to Beta my work as well as help me with writer's block. So in a way she controls the story as much as I do. We talked, and... Well here's the next chapter!
> 
> Special thanks to:  
> CobaltPhoenix88 for the kudos!!! They are very appreciated!!!

Acting purely on instinct, a shield spell was thrown in front of Snape. Damn if he was going to keep himself hidden and let his Godfather get hit with multiple botched Stunning spells.

Oh, Snape knows now, if not before, that someone followed him. However, Draco can’t really bring himself to care. Mentally filing Snape’s gobsmacked expression to examine later, he turned himself to face the others. Discovering that, what he can care about was the fact that Sirius Black was indeed here, looking as mad as aunt Bella on a particularly bad day. Wait, he’s talking now.

“How many Snakes had followed us here!”

Eek, okay, they see him now, distraction needed immediately.

“How many Lions are secretly aligned with a mass murderer?”

That shut Black up quickly, which was great, but unfortunately Saint Potter had to come to his rescue.

“He’s not a mass murderer! He was framed for the death of the muggles by Peter Pettigrew.”

Seemingly woken from his shocked state, Snape snapped right back at Potter. 

“Pettigrew is dead! Killed by the very man you are defending.”

“No! He explained it to us! Professor Lupin, back me up!”

What followed was a cacophony of noises that can be labeled as an “argument”. Using the time to scrutinize his surroundings and calculate the distance from the castle, Draco decided that they were in the shrieking shack. It would make sense for a wanted criminal to hide in a place like this.

“Listen to the boy Snivellus, Merlin knows he got more brains than you.”

I spy a duel about to happen. Maybe it’s time to interfere.

“I wouldn’t be so cocky Black; you’re insulting the only chance you have at freedom.”

Black snorted very inelegantly, really, where did his pureblood training as a child go? “You? My chance at freedom? The two of you are more likely to impede that than support it.”

“Of course, but only because you have not yet given any evidence to your supposed innocence.”

“Pettigrew the Rat! It was the Rat, he killed Lily and James, he’s the damnable traitor.”

Draco just looked at him with the most unimpressed raised eyebrow ever. When Black just stared back, he sighed.

“Which rat?”

“Scabbers, apparently.” Oh, the Weasel just spoke, and was he holding the “rat”?

“How can a rat kill? Only a snake or person would be able to communicate with the dark lord.”

There was a small pause, before the werewolf finally answered his question. “Animagus.” 

That, that actually made sense, but he needed solid proof.

“Severus, do you know any spells to force an animagi shift?”

As Draco turned to face Snape, whilst keeping his wand pointed at the Gryffindors, Snape glanced back at him, tilting his head slightly. Draco simply sniffed and drawled, “Let me rephrase myself, dear Professor Snape, would you happen to know any obscure and ancient spells that are used to influence an animagi transformation?”

Snape’s lips twitched slightly then answered in an amused tone. “Of course, dear student.”

Brandishing his wand, he whispered a quite incantation. The old tussled rat squirming inside Weasel’s cupped hands was thrown onto the floor, it began to bubble and then suddenly, a balding old man was half kneeled in front of them.

Was that supposed to happen? Scratch that, of course. 

“Pettigrew! So, it was you who betrayed Lily.”

Draco glanced at Snape again. Why did he only mention the mother? Filing away that little tidbit of information, he inspected the pathetic man on the floor. Fat, old, terrified, and disgusting. This is Pettigrew? Doesn’t look like much of a threat.

“Please! I beg of you, spare me. Sirius, we were good friends, right?”

“Good until you ratted us out!”

“Ron! You were a good owner, the very best.”

“I thought you were a normal rat!”

This pattern repeated itself several times for each person. While Draco thought it was incredibly pitiful, judging by the expression of Snape’s face, he was enjoying himself immensely. Especially when Pettigrew turned to him.

“Ah, we knew each other, right? Not too bad enemies…”

“Except we were the very worst kind of it, and you ended up killing Lily, so shove off.”

Again, with the first name basis with Potter’s mother, what was going on? Pettigrew is alive, Snape seems to have known Potter’s mudblood mother in his youth, and Sirius Black seems to be innocent of all his crimes. Oh dear, Pettigrew is turning towards him, nope, not doing this today.

“I didn’t even know you existed till a few minutes ago, so don’t say anything to me.”

Why does he feel like he’s forgetting something?

“Well now that you all have seen him, it’s time for him to go.” With that, Black raised his wand prepared to strike a fatal blow. However, Granger stopped him.

“No! If we bring Pettigrew to the ministry, we could prove your innocence. Then you wouldn’t have to be a criminal your whole life.”

Another argument coming up. Nope, he can’t do this tonight. He’s too tired.

“Granger is correct. Bringing Pettigrew in will be a much easier way to prove you blameless. So, tie him up, and we will take him back to Hogwarts.”

Black seemed reluctant at first, but after some puppy eyes from Potter, he caved. Snape tied Pettigrew up, then revealed he had used Scarhead’s invisibility cloak (where the hell did he get that), and led the way back to the castle.

Their ragtag group of weird associates were just emerging from the tunnel under the Womping Willow when Draco spied the full moon rising behind the forest. 

He definitely was forgetting something back in the shack. Full moon. Werewolf. Lupin.

God damnit.


	3. Coward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since exams are coming up, I probably won't write anything until the holidays... This short paragraph was written on the bus (don't judge me) and wasn't checked over by AspenChaos. So, all mistakes are my own!

How did he forget!? The very reason he followed Snape in the first place. 

Lupin had fur sprouting from his back, arms, and legs. A muzzle emerging from his face, his clothes ripping from the extra strain the were-wolf body provides. His eyes flashing with a manic glare, the pupils dilating. It seems as if he didn’t drink his Wolfsbane potion today. That pretty much means death if you stick around for the transformation to end. Not good. Let’s hope Werewolves only hunt those closest to them.

Without further ado, Draco turned and sprinted back towards the castle. He didn’t understand Snape or the other Gryffindors. Lupin would be fine after his transformation, they, on the other hand, would only be either mauled to death or Kissed by the dementors. Neither are good choices.

Hence the perfectly rational choice is to leave and throw this night’s madness into the back of his memory. 

He doesn’t care about them.

Nope, he doesn’t.

They are all idiots and should therefore die.

Okay fine, he cares about Snape. But nobody else!

Turning around when he was at the top of the hill, Draco peered back down to see how things have progressed.

… Not that good. 

Lupin was fully transformed, and in Blacks’ place was a gigantic, filthy, black dog. The Golden trio of Gryffindor was standing around, helpless. No wait, Granger, and Potter was standing around, Weasel was… Crawling? Whatever.

The point was that Snape was nowhere to be found.

Swinging his head around frantically, he searched the grounds for a glimpse of fluttering black capes or a head of oily black hair. So far, he hasn’t got any luck.

Glancing down the hill again, Draco tried to decide on what to do.

On one hand, he could help his “enemies” and a newly found cousin, but on the other hand, he could go into the school to alert a teacher and subsequently try to find his Godfather.

Deciding quickly, Draco returned to his sprint back up towards the castle.

Snape was more family than that cousin could ever be, and if this plan also kept him safe then, well that’s just a plus.


	4. Useless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hit the exams and completely lost all drive to write. After that, the teachers heaved kilos of homework on us, and I (again) got caught up in that. Only when Ankita commented on this fanfiction did I start writing again. THEN AFTER THAT, I HIT WRITERS BLOCK. Like, seriously? THEN my brother woke me up at 3:32 in the morning! The only good that came out of that was that lying in bed, I found a brief flash of inspiration. Well, at least the next chapter is posted now.

As he neared the main gates of Hogwarts, Draco slowed down to a quick jog. No point in drawing unnecessary attention to himself. Once he reached the gate, he reapplied all the basic stealth charms before entering. 

Who should he contact? In most situations, he would say Snape but unfortunately, he is missing right now. So perhaps McGonagall? But she would inform Dumbledore of this night’s happenings, then again, Potter would tell the old coot everything anyway… 

His musings were abruptly cut off by a piercing, and maniacal laugh. Peeves swooped down from the ceiling giggling all the way.  


“See how Squibby handle that! Rats like tunnels! And food! Hogwarts full of dirty and fat rats later!”

As Peeves happily floated along cackling to himself, he began mindlessly sending out waves of mischief magic (AKA Chaos magic). Draco huddled into a corner, desperately hoping that Peeves would just pass him by. However, some entity just seems to hate him tonight, as Peeves suddenly froze.

“Oh! Who is the wittle student out of bed? Going to get Filch I am, get Filch!” 

With that, Peeves dived downwards and let out a strong pulse of magic, affectively scrambling all the spells Draco had cast before.

“Ha! Snaky eh? Greasy bat not here for you now!”

Damn, this night just keeps getting better and better. How to convince Peeves to not cause a ruckus about this? Scratch that, this is easy.

Draco forced a smile onto his face and answered Peeves in a sing-song voice.

“No, but you know who’s outside?”

Hopefully Peeves would appreciate good gossip material, as Draco has nothing else to give him.

“Oh? Who I wonder?”

“A werewolf, who also happens to be a certain professor.”

“I is know this already!”

“Ah, but the werewolf is on a hunt tonight.”

“Who is the hunted?”

“Three other students out of bed, and two other adults.”

“Where is they playing?”

“Out in the forest.”

Peeves grinned and prepared to shoot out the window. However, Draco requires payment for everything he does, and so he called out once again.

“Ah! But Peeves, surely you are not leaving yet?”

“Do you have other juicy gossip to say?”

“No, nothing like that. Only I want to know the password to the headmaster’s office.”

“Easy! Easy! Tis is Mango Pudding!”

After that, Peeves shot out the window, making a beeline towards the Forbidden Forest. Hopefully, the headmaster knows how to fix this, as Draco would not want to have visited him only to be turned back.

He knows where the Headmaster’s office was because he’s seen Golden Boy enter through the Gargoyle before, and now that he knows the password, maybe he’ll be able to get in.


	5. Discussion

Walking up the spiral staircase was a bizarre experience. The stairway twisted and turned and moved as if it had a mind of its own. Portraits shuffled and fled their frames, presumably to warn the Headmaster of the new arrival.

As Draco reached the headmaster’s door, it opened automatically, allowing him inside.

Dumbledore’s office was well furnished. Colored in warm tones, it strongly reminded Draco of the Gryffindor house’s shades. Two walls were made entirely of bookcases’, surrounding the work desk in the middle. Atop the desk, were several items with unidentified uses.

Fawkes stood upon his silver cage, silently watching him. Judging, before giving out one long cry. Draco immediately jumped back with his wand in hand, the hippogriff incident flashing past his mind’s eye.

“No need for that, my boy.”

Spinning around, Draco found Dumbledore _right there_. Standing behind his large desk, in long deep blue robes. Still with that damn _twinkle_ in his eyes.

“Would you like to tell me the reason for your visit?”

Snapping back to reality, Draco mentally slapped himself.

“Yes sir, it’s about Professor Lupin. He didn’t take his wolfsbane potion tonight.”

The twinkle dimmed, giving Draco a rush of satisfaction.

“Explain.”

So, Draco told Dumbledore what happened tonight. Quickly rushing through the “out of bed past curfew” part but describing everything else in as much detail as possible.

When he finished, Dumb Door just stood there with his head bowed. Just standing there. He was clearly thinking but can he _think faster_!

“Fawkes, would you be so kind as to find the missing company? Protect them from the Dementors and should any of them be hurt, bring them immediately to the infirmary.”

Fawkes nodded and disappeared in a bright flash of fire and light. Dumbledore then proceeded to summon a Patronus. Which took the form of Fawkes, only the Patronus was silver. Maybe he should learn to summon a Patronus? But later.

“Go to Minerva and tell her that we have a furry problem. Tell her to wait in the infirmary.”

A furry problem? _That’s_ how they refer to Lupin’s werewolf condition! A bit comical but nonetheless it serves its purpose.

Then Dumbledore turns back to him. A slight crease between his eyebrows clueing Draco into the fact that he will _not_ like this discussion.

Attempting to just leave before more trouble comes, Draco stood to excuse himself. However, it just seems as if nothing can go as he wished today (tonight?). Dumbledore motioned for him to stay.

“Draco, while I am thankful for your help, I must inquire as to why.”

Why? Well… That was a surprisingly hard question to answer. Still, Dumbledore was a legilimens, so he should tell something akin to the truth.

Another note: Learn Occlumency.

“Well Professor, I wasn’t really thinking clearly most of the time, or else Lupin would never have contacted moonlight. Though I do believe I acted for my own as well as Professor Snape’s interests.”

Dumbledore just looked at him.

Just when the silence became slightly uncomfortable, Dumbledore spoke.

“Well then, perhaps you would like some books to read?”

Huh? Books? How did the conversation turn towards…?

Crazy Door turned and fished a small stack of books out of a nearby cabinet. Placing them on the table, he started humming as he looked through the pile.

“Perhaps? No no no no. Something more… But not…”

What was going on? Draco definitely did not want any books the Headmaster gave him. Then again, he also didn’t have a good reason to refuse.

“Here you go, my boy!” Dumbledore interrupted his thoughts rudely.

Draco regarded the one single book left on top of the desk.

** _The Lore of the Lurking Lord_ **

Who named this? The title will be an absolute bore to say.

“Thanks… Now can I go.”

“Of course! Read the book Draco, finish it before this term ends.”

“Oh… All right.” It wasn’t as if the book was that thick. “I’ll just take my leave then.”

Draco spun around and practically rushed out the door. Dumbledore isn’t just eccentric; he is _flat out crazy_. And Draco is going to get out of the office before he is infected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pls Comment!


	6. Getting started

After laboring through the week as well as all the exams, Draco sat outside in the courtyard, under the shade of a willow tree. Just resting. He needed to reorganize his thoughts after this disastrous week.

The exams are over, he doesn’t need to worry about that anymore, although he’s pretty sure he didn’t get his desired grade in Herbology. He would never understand how plants work.

His bags are all packed, ready to go home.

Anything else?

Oh right, Dumbledore’s book.

Everything in the book he already knew, just basic light propaganda. The Dark Lord is evil, he tortures, he’s insane… etc. etc. The opposite of everything his father says. However, one thing did pique his interest. Besides a paragraph speculating about the Dark Lord’s origins, there was a single word written in a loopy cursive script.

~~_Riddle_ ~~

Draco had no idea what it meant. He already tried finding hidden meanings inside the paragraph, inside the whole chapter. But the search yielded no results.

Sighing, Draco pulled out the book from his cloak pocket, he turned it over in his hands.

It was a thin book, covered in dark blue leather. The title was done in gold inscriptions. Nothing much, yet the headmaster wanted him to read it. Why? The only thing important was that note. Riddle. What did it mean? There weren’t any riddles in the book.

However, it was written beside a chapter on the Dark Lord’s origins… But no-no. It can’t be a name! Riddle wasn’t a pureblood name, and the Dark Lord was descended from Salazar Slytherin himself! Surely Slytherin’s descendants would go to Hogwarts? Would be well known? Would…

Stop, Draco. Return the book to Dumbledore and stop thinking about it. Just… Go to the Ministry sometime in the summer, and search for anyone named “Riddle” who lived two generations ago.

***

Draco leisurely regarded the bookcase before him. He was in Diagon Alley, Flourish and Blotts. Having just been in Knockturn, he had a whole stack of Dark books in his book bag. Just waiting to be pursued when he gets home. Now he’s in Diagon, looking for more books and also getting some more potion ingredients for Severus. Merlin knows how that man powered through a whole two jars of slug eyes in just one week since the summer holiday started.

He already had a new stack of books ready to be bought when another caught his eye.

**_ How to Un-transfigure human Transfiguration. _ **

**__ **

Well, seems useful, why not?

***

Finally, his Holiday homework was finished! And there was still a full three weeks left for the Holiday! Plenty of time to arrange a Ministry visit and learn some new spells.

He already started on Occlumency, which was surprisingly easy. The Patronus Charm and obtaining an Animagus form is much harder.

***

“Father.”

“Yes, Draco? This better be important.”

“As clearly as you can manage, why are Purebloods superior?”

“They simply are. It is a fact of life.”

“… Alright.”

***

A Ministry visit was finally arranged. Tomorrow, he will accompany his Father to a Wizengamot session, after that, while Father negotiated some contract or another, he will make his way to the Department of Identity. Where he will then search for the name “Riddle”.

More plans can be made later on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, another chapter! Working on the next one as well. :)  
> Pls Comment.


	7. Discovery

It is official, Ministry workers are morons.

Why? You may ask. Well, it is because they reinstated the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

THE BLOODY TRI-WIZARD TOURNAMENT.

The Tournament that was stopped in the _first place_ because of the _death_ rate. Why would they even entertain the idea of sending off children to participate in a death match?! Huh?! At the very least, it seems someone retained the use of a few brain cells because an age requirement was set.

Still, a _deathmatch_.

And Father just sat in court with a bored expression! He didn’t even _do_ anything. Draco, since he is underage, isn’t even legally allowed to _speak_ in court, so he could only sit and stew in silence. Which brought along a few breakthroughs in his thought pattern.

He needs more power. More independence. He needs to be respected not because he is a Malfoy, but because he is Draco.

To do that, he needs money, and land, untouchable by others. He also needs to become better at politics, and magic in general.

More points to add to his mental checklist.

Now, as he reached the Department of Identity, Draco calmed himself. There was no need to let others glimpse at his inner thoughts.

“Good Afternoon Scion Malfoy, how may we help you?”

Draco turned towards the speaker. She was a young lady, most likely someone’s intern.

“Evening, take me to the records of Hogwarts student administration sixty to seventy years ago.”

“I… Uh…”

New on the job as well it seemed, some scare tactics should be employed.

“Listen Lady, stop stalling and take me to wherever it is you workers keep the Hogwarts administration lists.”

_Workers_ , inferior, below me.

“Al… Alright. Come with me.”

Draco followed after her silently as they weaved through twisting underground tunnels. There were plain metal doors on each side every few meters down, however, none of them were labeled. Each one an exact copy of the last.

“Here we keep all the folders of Hogwarts’s students.”

The young intern had stopped in front of one of the smooth grey metal doors. After unlocking the entrance, she hurried away. With a quiet snort at the intern’s expense, Draco entered.

The inside of the room was pitch black, even after Draco stepped in. So, the “lighting spell activator” or whatever the Ministry called it, must be broken. Draco simply rolled his eyes as this was nothing new, he flicked his wand and illuminated the whole room.

Revealing a vast stone room filled to the brim with millions of floating color-coded folders, each one labeled with a single name and birth date.

“Oh, _Bloody_ _hell_.”

Twisting around to face the entrance, Draco prepared to ask the intern lady for anyone who has “Riddle” in their name, only to find her long gone.

Promptly he cursed under his breath. How was he supposed to find anything in this mess?

As he walked further into the room, past a few dozen or so folders, suddenly, inspiration struck. Maybe the room operated like his Manor’s library, where he has to go to the central dragon statue, write down on a piece of parchment guidelines for what type of a book he seeks, and put it in the mouth of the statue. However, the Manor was old, so here, he should only need to call out whatever it is he seeks.

“Riddle.”

At first, nothing seemed to have happened. Then gradually, the folders started to shift, most of them drifting further and further away. However, a few of them did move closer. Only one came to a stop right in front of him. A green folder emblazoned with Slytherin’s crest.

**Tom Marvolo Riddle (31 December 1926 -?)**

Reaching up to grab the folder, Draco’s heart sank as another idea came into existence.

“Draconis Lucius Malfoy”

This time, the folder that came up to him was noticeably thinner. It was still green but instead was adorned with the Malfoy family crest.

_But that means that this Tom person… Is the heir of Slytherin?!_

***

Later that day, Draco lay in bed, sleep the furthest thought from his mind.

How is he still alive?! Didn’t Potter kill him when he was one? Or is that a lie as well? What if he comes back? Will father join him again? Oh, he hopes not, they have everything to lose if he does.

Father probably will. He hates muggles to an unhealthy degree.

“Draco darling, why are your lights still on?”

Draco shot up into a sitting position. Wide eyes failing to mask their surprise.

“Oh! Um, just thinking mother.”

As Narcissa glided into the room, she pinned him with an unimpressed gaze.

“Well, perhaps note down your important thoughts, and _go to sleep_. A growing boy like you needs nine full hours of slumber.”

Draco groaned, loudly.

“Yes, mother.”

Rising from his bed, he surveyed his room. The medium-sized crystal chandelier lit up the room adequately but left plenty of shadows in the corners. Bookshelves covered the walls and several books littered his desk. His room was more like a study than a typical bedroom. Even though his walls were filled with bookshelves, his father still managed to hang a Slytherin flag besides an old ivory clock.

“Never forget the values we worship.” His father would repeat in his head whenever Draco looked at this flag. A few magical artifacts were scattered through his room. None of them were actually dark or illegal, though some might have been borderline dangerous. Like that bracelet he snagged on a trip to Knockturn, it would…

“Draco, get _ready_ for bed.”

Startled, Draco turned back to Narcissa. Lowering his head, he nodded meekly.

“Yes, mother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I remember someone commented that my chapters were too short, so I tried making them longer. Please do tell if any of you still think it's short.


	8. A bit of understanding

Just thinking over all the possibilities made his head hurt. How is Tom Riddle still alive? Is he actually the Dark Lord? All these questions continued to baffle him as days passed. Finally, he decided to move on to other problems. Mainly, increasing his own political power.

That day, he made his way to the fireplace alone, flooing to Diagon Alley.

As he entered Gringotts, the first tendril of uncertainty snaked its way through his mind. He was all alone, with creatures infamous for their viciousness. What did he even think he could accomplish here?

Shaking those thoughts away, he made his way to an open goblin teller. The bank was quite full that day, with several parents rushing to and from, however, being a Malfoy has its certain privileges.

“Good morning, I wish to secure a vault of my own.”

The goblin peered at him over the unnecessarily large table, squinting at him in surprise before finally answering.

“Heir Malfoy, why do you wish to do so?”

The question momentarily stumped him. Why? Because he doesn’t trust his father? Because he’s a greedy little git? Because he has a feeling that he will need it?

“I don’t see how that is relevant.”

“You already have a lot of money, and more waiting for you if you want it. Why separate perfectly organized gold?”

Draco narrowed his eyes at the goblin, “All of which can be taken away by my family.”

A moment of silence later, the goblin bared his teeth at him, in some semblance of a smile.

“Ah, not feeling so safe with your father anymore huh. Nevertheless, you already have money he cannot touch.”

“…Pardon?”

“Follow me.”

The goblin slid off of the chair behind the bulky desk and motioned him into one of the side rooms. Entering, Draco was led to a seat in front of yet another even loftier desk, an elaborate knife, and a piece of old parchment was placed upon it.

“I request a few drops of your blood.”

Ah, a simple inheritance test then. Nodding, Draco gripped the knife in his right hand and cut a clean slice through his left palm. The knife must have been enchanted, for the slit immediately began weeping red tears. He raised his palm for the goblin who carefully maneuvered the parchment underneath his hand.

His blood streamed off his palm and fell on the parchment in a splash of red. Which quickly started twisting and spiraling, spreading across the page, before settling down as a deep red-colored ink.

**_Name: Draconis Lucius Malfoy_ **

**_Gender: Male_ **

**_Heirships: Malfoy_ **

**_Heir Apparent: Lestrange, Prince_ **

**_In debate: Black_ **

**_Marriage plans: None_ **

The silence stretched on as Draco scrambled to make sense of the paper in front of him. Of course, he’s heir Malfoy, and heir apparent Lestrange makes sense as well, since all members of the Lestrange family are in prison, and his mother is Lady Lestrange’s sister. But _Prince_? He thought that family died out two generations ago when the last female heir ran off to marry some muggle. Also, Black. What’s different about the Black lordship compared to the Lestrange lordship? Who was he competing against for the heirship?

Looking up, he tilted his head at the goblin. The goblin had remained silent the whole time and now seemed to rouse himself from deep thought.

“The Prince heirship stems from your Godfather, ask him for more information. The Black heirship is up in the air because you’re challenging Heir Potter for it. Heir Potter has a right as _his_ Godfather is the last male in the line who carries the name.”

Bloody Potter _again_. Ugh, if it’s against him he might not have much of a chance, everyone just seems to love him. However, Severus is Lord Prince? Then that would make him the child of the woman who eloped… Which would make him a half-blood.

Huh, always figured Death Eaters would consist of Pure-bloods, then again, _Snape_ isn’t a pure-blood name. Let’s suppose he just doesn’t think about that too deeply.

“Alright,” Then an absolutely fabulous idea struck him. “Is it possible to make myself Lord Lestrange?”

The Goblin peered at him once again, eyes scanning him for deceit.

“I suppose it is possible if we pull up ancient rules for war. They would justify an under-age taking Lordship.”

_Of course, claiming it was a bloody war would justify that._

“The problem is there _is_ no war.”

“You are wrong, the _Ministry_ claims there is no war. We, the goblins, however, have never declared the war _ended_.”

***

After the visit to Gringotts, Draco returned home in time for dinner. Entering the dining room, he found father at the head of the table.

As he sat down, Lucius glanced up from his newspaper. Looking him over, he then motioned for Draco to sit.

“Are you prepared for school, Draco?”

Oh right, school starts tomorrow. No wonder the bank was so full. Is everything…?

“Of course, Father.”

The silence stretched on as Draco mulled over what Sharptalon, the goblin, had told him.

_The Dark Lord is not dead, and he is indeed originally named Tom Riddle. While what Heir Potter did that night years ago would have killed any lesser being, it did not kill him. Not permanently, at any rate. You see, Tom participated in a dark ritual, one few people know of. I believe you, at least, should have heard it in passing. Tom created Horcruxes._

Horcruxes, plural. Something to do about immortality and the soul. If what he remembered is accurate, then the Dark Lord would really come back one day. Still, he would rather not become one of his Death Eaters. Cleansing the unworthy is fine and dandy and all, but he would not like getting blood on his own hands.

About that…

“Father, if the Dark Lord hypothetically came back to life, but at the time, not power. What would you choose to do?”

Father slowly placed down the teacup he had been sipping from before. Looking straight into Draco’s eyes, he responded.

“I told you five times already, I was under the Imperius, would I fight otherwise? Malfoys serve no one. Return to him! I had thought, not once, that you were thick. Again, you proved me right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who can figure out what Lucius is ACTUALLY trying to say?  
> Pls comment what you think it is!:)


	9. Back to school

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the answer to the riddle!

Draco lay in bed that night, thinking over the words his father said. “Five times”? That discussion was the only time he had ever mentioned anything of the sort… Following that thread, it must be a clue. Then perhaps if he counts every five words…

_I… would… serve… him… once… again…_

Holy Shit, Father _why_?!

Father must be trying to test him again. If he figures it out, he is “worthy” of the truth, if he doesn’t, father won’t have to worry about information leaks…

Well, he acquired the answer, and it isn’t ideal. Figures.

***

The next day, Draco got out of bed early. Through the floor-length window, he could see the sun just rising over the horizon, painting the sky a mix of gold and red. His trunk was packed, his owl cage resting on top, and a neatly pressed black suit was placed beside it.

As he entered the bathroom to shower and prepare, he couldn’t help but feel nervous for the day ahead. Would anything change this school year? He should probably be nicer to Potter now, since following in his father’s footsteps are no longer a possibility. Also, Sharptalon hadn’t yet sent a letter to confirm whether or not he could be Lord Lestrange, so an inroad to the Light side would probably be helpful.

While combing his hair out of its’ usual curls, Draco looked at himself carefully in the mirror. Blond hair, Malfoy. Silver eyes, Malfoy. Thin lips, Malfoy. Pointy nose, Black. High cheekbones, Black…

Tilting his head slightly, Draco tried to recall what Aunt Bella had looked like.

Black curly hair, crazed eyes, high cheekbones, full lips… And if you looked at Mother at just the right angle, you could see the family resemblance. Madness runs in the Black family, even Mother had admitted that she could only keep her composure sometimes through practice. Luckily, Draco hadn’t been born with that madness. True, he was a lot more emotional than his Malfoy ancestors, but he could still manipulate those around him when he wishes to.

At least when he keeps a special check on his words…

Too many times in the past he had gotten too wrapped up in his own argument, inevitably causing him to lose it.

***

Apparating isn’t exactly the best experience but doing it ever since you were six would get you used to the sensation.

He and his family arrived onto the platform with a soft crackle, and as his mother let go of his shoulder, he twisted around to give his parents a nod of goodbye. Swiftly turning once that was done. The house-elves should have already brought his trunk to the back, so off to find a compartment he goes.

They had arrived early since his family despised showing weakness in public. Now don’t get him wrong, his family was perfectly loving inside closed doors, just… weaknesses weren’t _politically beneficial_.

And… He supposes he understands... The Malfoy family was a highly political family, it’s basically their _job_.

“Drake! There you are!”

Ah, _Pansy_ , well-meaning, but still extremely annoying. Still, she’s nice enough. Perhaps even _trustworthy_ enough for his new… Opinions.

Although that can come later.

Draco turned around to give Pansy a slight smirk, while playfully bumping her shoulder.

“Miss me?”

Pansy only laughed. Then dragging him by his hand, tugged him into a nearby compartment. Apparently, Theo, Blaise, Tracey, and Millicent were also already waiting.

“No duh dummy, you’re _late_.”

Damn, Theo was too observant for his own good. Draco thought as he snorted, tossing his head dramatically as he collapsed into an empty seat.

“Now Theo, you just _broke my heart_!”

Thus, commenced the last bit of friendly jostling between them before reaching Hogwarts. After that, most of their time would be used up by both schoolwork and passive-aggressive family competitions of status.

Looking around now, Draco couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for planning to abandon his friends in the upcoming war. Should he try to help them? Would it even count as helping? Perhaps they would not balk as much as him to the thought of serving a mad half-blood and would rather stick with their families to the end. Should he? Is he ready to abandon his flesh and blood?

No, not yet, maybe never. But… Independence is good. It’s only a bit of independence.

***

Arriving at Hogwarts… Is not how he expected it to be? He hadn’t sought out Potter on the train, but during the carriage ride, it was they who sought _him_ out.

“Malfoy! Malfoy! Wait up!”

Pansy gave a long-suffering sigh at the sight of the Golden Trio trying to catch up to them.

“Now what is it? Draco, what did you do this time?”

Draco scowled, “I didn’t _do_ anything, Pansy.”

Pansy glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes, then elegantly shrugged.

“That might be the problem then. I’ll save you a seat!” With that, she pranced away. Leaving a sputtering Draco behind. Then, Potter and his blunderbusses had caught up.

“Malfoy- _pant_ \- have you- _pant_ \- told- _pant_ \- anyone that- _pant_ \- Sirius is- _pant_ -”

Draco eyed the wheezing Potter with slight disdain.

“Alive? Hiding? Rich? What Potter, hurry up.”

“Innocent! Have you told anyone that Sirius is innocent?”

“No.”

“Oh, um alright. Will you help? Spread the… Truth?”

“Now? No. Later when I have a good enough deal, plan, and power? Perhaps.”

“Oh, okay.”

Potter honestly looked crestfallen at that. What was it he expected? That everyone would bend over backward to please him? That Draco doesn’t have better things to do with his time? Typical, really.

***

The feast was the same as every year, except he wasn’t using the time to make fun of Potter. Slytherin received a good enough group of first years, and Dumb-Door gave another one of his unintelligible speeches. Then everyone discovered that former- Auror Moody was their new DADA professor! The horror! Already, Mad-eye’s eye was sweeping across the Slytherin table _considerably_ more than the other tables.

And… There’s also the Tri-Wizard tournament.

This is going to be a horrific year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having trouble deciding on a ship for Draco... Maybe none?


	10. Flowers aren't good confidantes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so happy! It’s my first story ever and people like it! I’m just going to grin stupidly at myself now… And also, I’m packing up to move to another house, unfortunately, “packing up” includes all of my books as well. So, if there are any details that aren’t cannon blame it on my memory lol.

The next day, everyone sat in the Great Hall eating quietly. Draco could feel some people glance at him, waiting for him to start something. Which, alright, is kind of fair. Teasing Potter about the Death Eater raid during the Quidditch Cup would be _so much fun_. However, doing so would make him seem suspicious since he didn’t even attend the Cup. Damn, he should have attended, instead of wasting time passing letters back and forth with Sharptalon.

Speaking of letters from Sharptalon…

A majestic owl swooped into the Hall. It was brown with a slight golden shine on the edges, quite big, and was an absolute show-off. It plunged all the way down from high up, flew back up, and came down again. Finally dropping off its parcel and letter in front of Draco.

Draco didn’t even bother suppressing his groan. People were watching already, is there any chance of this staying a secret? Dragging a hand down his face, he picked up the letter stamped with Gringotts’s symbol to read.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**_Dear Heir Malfoy,_ **

****

**_You have been formally given the allowance to the title of “Lord Lestrange” should you still desire it. Arrive in Gringotts on Sunday this week, between 4:00 and 23:00, to officialize this. If you must, use the Portkey in the parcel to arrive. It will activate at 5:00 sharp._ **

****

**_May your honor and pride stay forever intact,_ **

****

**_Sharptalon_ **

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

****

Good news, at least. Glancing at the small parcel the size of his palm, Draco wondered whether he could guilt his Godfather into taking him. Waking up that early is _ungodly_.

“Draco what’s that?”

Pansy your curious streak is going to get you _killed_ someday. Everyone is already watching and now you are going to encourage them?

Draco smirked at her while trying to hide the letter.

“It’s nothing Pans, just family stuff. You shouldn’t… _Hey_!”

Theo grinned at him from the other side of the table as he leisurely levitated the letter towards him.

Draco growled, this can’t go public, it _can’t_.

“Theodore Nott, you hand that back _right now_.”

He could see Theo pause marginally. _Yes! Use your damn observation skills for something good!_

He just watched Draco carefully, before slowly levitating it back.

“It’s important, isn’t it?”

“ _Yes_ Theodore, it is.” Draco snapped at him. Through he immediately felt guilty, Theo had returned the letter, didn’t he?

“Not so fast!” Pansy laughed as she snatched the letter, this time with her hands. “We should all know whatever this is, no?”

A slew of curse words flew through Draco’s head. None of which is appropriate. Before he can stop her, however, Pansy had already opened the letter.

He could only watch with dread as her eyes scanned the short note inside, widening before they snapped up to him.

“Draco, this is great, isn’t it! You’re going to be a lord! Lord Lestrange at that.”

_Curse_ you, Pansy, curse you straight to hell.

Instantly, mutterings took over the Great Hall. Even those who didn’t understand politics knew that underage lordship was uncommon. Those who understood was another thing altogether, more importantly, he lost the element of surprise. _Which is what you should have thought of, Pansy!_

Pansy, however, remained ignorant, she just smiled at him happily. Damage control, he has to get on top of the situation before it gets worse.

“No, I’m not Lord Lestrange yet, and I might never be. Pansy, hand that letter back.”

He silenced her with a hand to her mouth before plucking the correspondence from her fingers. Motioning for Crabbe and Goyle to bring his bookbag with them, he turned towards the door and started walking.

“Becoming Lord Lestrange? That’s nigh impossible! I’m quite sure you remember my age, Pansy.” He bemoaned with a quiet sigh. Before slipping outside.

Hopefully, people would just agree that stupid and entitled Draco Malfoy would never be able to find a way past the rules of lordship.

***

After the uneventful first day, Draco returned to the Slytherin dormitory. Homework wasn’t that hard, and they will only have DADA with Crazy Eye on Friday. For some reason, there was a quick change of schedule. DADA on Friday will be with _everyone_ in his year. Something about an introductory first lesson.

Draco perched himself in the prime area right in front of the fireplace. Sitting down cross-legged, he closed his eyes and began to meditate, the first step to reaching an animagus form.

Slowly, his mind cleared, and he looked deep within himself to look for his magical core, a pulsing orb of silver magic. He has been able to do so for some time, but tonight, there was something new. Thin, misty strands of magic were reaching _out,_ slithering, curling, expanding. They curled around his core in a sense of _rightness_ he couldn’t explain.

He spent the rest of the meditation period just staring at the misty strands, trying to will them into an animal form.

***

On Wednesday Dumbledore announced the Tri-Wizard tournament, on Friday the other schools arrived. Beauxbatons Academy of Magic arrived first in a gargantuan flying horse chariot. Madame Maxime was the headmistress of the school. Shortly after, Durmstrang Institute arrived in another colossal sailboat, which floated out of the water. Karkaroff was the headmaster of that school.

That night, after everyone’s performances, the Beauxbaton students mostly sat with the Ravenclaws, and the Durmstrang students mostly sat with the Slytherins. Viktor Krum had swept his eyes across the table and had promptly decided that Draco was the central leader.

Draco could see his surprise, most probably because he expected an older year to be in control. No matter, they could barter all the same.

As Krum sat down, Draco acted just as entitled as he usually does, only providing Krum a passing glance after the first acknowledgment of his seeker skills. He, however, was actually watching him the whole time. In just the first few minutes, Draco had already decided that Krum wasn’t in power because he wanted it, instead it was forced upon him, most likely by both his famousness and Karkaroff placing him on a pedestal. As a result, Krum seems to be extremely unhappy whenever placed in the spotlight, he just wasn’t uncomfortable after all the years used to get used to it.

Another side-effect would be that he doesn’t wish to speak to anyone if he could help it.

So how to start up an alliance? There is no way Draco would go and plead or beg for it.

Instead, he simply pulled everyone around him into a gentle conversation about mundane topics such as the most recent gossip in France. After that had gone on for a while, he turned in such a way as to show friendliness, and asked Krum who was slightly off to his right.

“Oh, you there, pass the Crème brûlée would you? Oh, and Pansy, do tell Millicent about the most recent discount for sturdy and gilded cat cages around…”

As Krum silently passed the Crème brûlée, Draco continued his chatter with the others, giving Krum one sidelong glance. Afterward, he turned to him and tilted his head, as if analyzing him.

“Not many people on this table would just follow an order like that,” he raised an eyebrow before continuing, “you must really abhor the idea of a confrontation.”

Krum slowly twisted around to look at him, as their eyes met, he stared blankly before answering.

“Yes.”

“You are the leader of your year.”

“Yes.”

“You do not like the life of a star.”

“…No.”

“Understandable, have a great day.”

Draco turned back around to resume the conversation he had with Pansy, swiftly kicking Krum out of the discussion. Hopefully, that rude gesture would incite some type of curiosity from Krum’s side.

***

Nighttime again. Time for illegal magic use. So… cliché.

Draco calmly dug out the book for animagus transformation from out of his trunk. His Occlumency was coming along as good as it could. Without anyone to perform Legilimency on him to check his progress, he could only guess by evaluating the strength of his barriers on his own. As far as he could tell, they were getting stronger.

He flipped open the book to check the steps one last time before sending out letters to buy the necessary ingredients.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

  1.     1. **Meditate and attempt to find your magical core. Eventually, you should be able to see vague shapes of your animal form.**

**\-----------------------------------------------------**

    1. **Place a Mandrake leaf in your mouth without swallowing or chewing for a month (full moon to full moon)**

**\-----------------------------------------------------**

    1. **At the second full moon, relocate the leaf in a vial with a strand of your own hair, a sliver teaspoon full of dew untouched by humans or sunlight for seven days, and a cocoon from a Death’s-head hawkmoth.**

**\-----------------------------------------------------**

    1. **Stopper the vial and place it in a dark place where sunlight is non-existent.**

**\-----------------------------------------------------**

    1. **Every dusk and dawn place your wand on your heart and cast a spell on yourself. (Amato Animo Animato Animagus) If you detect a second heartbeat, do not worry, it is an indication that you are doing it correctly.**

**\-----------------------------------------------------**

    1. **When a lightning storm breaks out, the vial should turn blood red. Drink it, and perform the spell again. You should receive a clear vision of your animal form accompanied by its scientific name, and shortly after, begin the transformation.**



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who understands politics? I don't. Why did I make Draco such a political animal?! I'm killing myself!


	11. Teachers

As Draco walked to class with his friends, he thought about the day before. Someone in Slytherin had cursed Pansy with boils, probably to curry favor from him. Usually, he _would_ have done it himself, but Pansy was just one of those people who didn’t think things through before doing them. Heck, she probably thought she was doing him a courtesy, spreading the fact of his rise in power.

Another worrying thing was Professor Moody. There was just something slightly off with him. There was the fact that he’s paranoid, and also the fact that he seemed to hate all the Slytherins. There were rumors floating around about how he yelled at a second-year Slytherin student for more than thirty minutes!

What type of teacher does that?

Entering the Great Hall, which is where the first DADA lesson would be held, Draco saw that most of his year was already present.

“Well, here are the latecomers, since you’re late, why don’t you be the first to try?”

Moldy seemed extra smug when he said that with both of his eyes fixed on Draco. He can already tell that this is going to be potentially mortifying.

Walking with Theo to the side to drop off his bookbag, Draco mulled over the possible orders Moody might give. It’s DADA, so what type of thing would a crazy ex-Auror choose to do?

“Draco Malfoy hm? Why don’t you come to the front?”

Hesitantly, Draco stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the teacher’s manic stare.

“Now, class, I will show you the uses of the Imperius. You may think that it is illegal, but there are people out there who would use it anyway.”

Moody said this while glowering at Draco, Draco glared right back. With a small swish of his wand and a whispered _Imperio,_ Moody had a spider under his thrall.

“I can make the spider tap dance; I can make him twirl.” He said as he demonstrated, “Or perhaps I can make him drown himself, and eat his own entrails.”

With another swish, Crazy returned the spider to the jar on his table. Now, turning to Draco, he spoke to the class.

“Today we will practice resisting the Imperious curse.”

He grinned at Draco with smugness radiating from every pore.

“Malfoy, your father had… trouble… resisting the curse, no? Let’s see how you would fare.”

There were a few small laughs in the class. Draco gritted his teeth in rage. So, this old, shabby, man wants to shame the Malfoy family? It doesn’t matter who he is, he is going to _eat his words_.

Moody leveled his wand at his forehead, but Draco simply raised his chin in defiance. Eyes narrowed in concentration, Moody cast.

“ _Imperio_!”

In his head, Draco could feel the force of the spell bash against his mental shields. The silver tinge of his defenses against the blue of the spell.

_Squawk and strut around the classroom like a chicken._

Squawk… Chicken… No! He absolutely refuses to do anything of the sort! Nonetheless, Draco could feel his limbs twitching in preparation. Forcing himself out of his mind, he watched as Moody scowled and increased the force of the spell.

The blue inside his head increased to painful levels. Its blue tendrils twisting around his guards, twisting, squeezing, and his shields began to crack.

Bad, this is bad, very bad. Tracing the blue tendrils, Draco saw, in his minds eye, Mad-eye’s magical core. Pushing everything he had into it, he lashed out with his own magic.

Abruptly, the pressure in his mind disappeared, and he collapsed onto the ground. Raising his head, he could see that Moody was thrown back as well. Both combatants were on the ground.

When Moody stood, Draco did so as well. Struggling slightly when his feet tried to give out underneath him.

Moody and the class watched the whole process. There was a new calculating look in his eyes, but it was gone in another instant. Instead, he switched plans.

“So, you have become one with the Lestrange magic have you not? Usually, only self-assurance and a strong personality would defend oneself against the Imperius.”

Draco grunted, what does this have to do with the Lestrange family magic?

“Hence, you are saying that I have a weak personality and isn’t confident? Hm?”

Moody just shrugged, “What do you think?”

What a non-answer.

“Malfoy, why don’t you explain to the class how you defended your mind.”

Rolling his eyes, Draco glanced at the class the surrounded them. What’s so surprising about him refusing to strut like a chicken?

“There is such a thing named Occlumency, my father thought it imperative that I learn it after his own misfortunes.”

With a raised eyebrow, Moody retaliated, “Is that how it is? Perhaps instead it’s Bellatrix’s genes showing their face.”

Sputtering, Draco lost his chance to respond.

“Your aunt was such a pain to bring into the Ministry, even with inside help. She was powerful, very powerful, but stubbornly Dark.”

His fake eye swiveled around the class.

“Did you know Bellatrix tortured the Longbottoms? Tortured them into insanity, they’re still in Saint Mungos right now.”

Gasps of surprise filled the hall, and many people flocked to Heir Longbottom. Looks like he needed it anyway, his face was ashen.

“Did you know that Bellatrix was _the_ most dangerous person to meet in battle? Topped only by the Dark Lord himself.”

Draco snapped his head towards Moody. He called _him_ the Dark Lord. Only Death Eater families do that. Anyway, time to handle this.

Flipping his hair, Draco drawled out, “An old man’s rambling of times long past. In case you haven’t noticed, my name is Draco Malfoy, not Bellatrix Lestrange or Lucius Malfoy. We’re different people.”

Narrowing his eyes at the defense professor, Draco continued, “And what does the Lestrange magic have to do with this? Last I checked, Aunt Bella excelled at the Cruciatus, not the Imperius.”

Moody threw his head back and guffawed loudly. “ _Ha_! That is true, the one who excelled at the _Imperius_ was your own father!”

He straightened and barred his teeth at Draco, tongue flicking out to lick at the corner of his lips. “Perhaps a demonstration is in order. Malfoy, with your diverse genes, cast the Imperius or Cruciatus on one of the spiders.”

Draco faltered. What should he choose to do? He had never cast the Unforgivables before. Should he risk looking like an idiot? Or risk looking like a Dark Wizard in training?

“You must really be grasping Moody. First of all, my father cannot cast the Imperius effectively, and second of all, why do you expect _me_ to be able to cast anything on that level?”

Chuckling, he answered, “Let’s see if practice or inheritances make perfect, hm? Cast the spell.”

What to do, what to do? Draco inhaled deeply before gently levitating a spider out of the glass jar. Placing it lightly onto the table, he tilted his head, trying to decide on a course of action. There doesn’t seem to be any way out of this.

Well, might as well.

Draco pointed his wand straight at the spider, mentally preparing himself for the spell. The entire class waited with bated breath. Quiet as a spring breeze, he whispered. In the silent classroom, however, it rang loud and clear.

_“Imperio.”_

Instantly, a second presence was welcomed into his mind, that of the spider. The presence was a simple one, only built of the most basic instincts. Easier to control.

_Stand on your two back legs._

The spider trembled and twitched on the table. It’s mind warring with itself.

_Stand on your two back legs._

The front part of its body started to raise itself, only to fall back down.

_Stand on your two back legs._

Twitch. Rise. Fall. Repeat.

_Stand on your two back legs._

Finally, the spider stood. Two legs on the table, and the rest waving in the air. It tried to scuttle around in its new position but only succeeded in stumbling a few measly steps before freezing. The magic of the spell stopping it from resuming the more comfortable position.

“Very good, very good. But just a tad bit simple, no?”

Moody was doing his weird tongue thing again, and… Oh, no you don’t.

Rolling his eyes, Draco drawled out, “What did you expect? It is the first time I’ve cast the spell. Should I have gone for something a bit more… Dangerous?”

“I prefer the term ‘ambitious’ but do go on. Why don’t you try anyway?”

Hell, Draco placed himself in a corner, didn’t he? ‘Ambition’ is one of Slytherin’s values, if he doesn’t…

To hell with that.

“I don’t believe I will, I _have_ been here on stage for quite long enough. Don’t you think the rest of the class should get a try as well?”

Moody's face slowly transformed into a glower. Glaring, he repeated, “You will re-cast the Imperius! You will listen to me!”

Draco twitched backward in slight shock. The teacher was taking this a lot harder than he expected. It’s like he wants a reason for a fight.

At Draco’s silence, Moody growled and drew his wand once again.

Scratch that, he _is_ looking for a fight.

Draco’s wand was already drawn, so it was no hardship to deflect the first stunning spell that came his way. Or the second, or the third.

Moody’s spells were clearly rusty. They were powerful but clumsy. Each spell only needs a slight nudge to push completely off course.

Kind of a letdown, really.

Right at that second, Moody decided to lunge. Draco started and tried to scramble backward as fast as he could, but Moody was quicker. The two once again fell to the ground, kicking, snarling, biting, scratching. Playing as dirty as possible.

_Snap!_

In the midst of excited screams from thrilled children, the sound barely registered in Draco’s mind. What did, was the following shout.

“Alastor! _What_ are you _doing_?”

That was a scandalized shout if anything was. As Moody, Alastor or whatever was magically pulled from atop of him, he could see McGonagall’s furious face.

“Professors are not allowed to exact physical punishment!”

Coughing, Draco felt the need to cut in.

“What makes you think it was a punishment?”

His voice was probably a bit sulky, but hey, a teacher just beat him up. He should be allowed to be sulky!

McGonagall blinked at him, before turning to Moody.

“Why were you and Mr. Malfoy in a fight?”

Moody was dusting himself off, at the question, he straightened and gave a grin with all teeth.

“We weren’t fighting, we were discussing, with our fists.”

McGonagall was starting to look murderous.

“Then why, may I ask, is Mr. Malfoy’s wand broken on the ground?”

Snapping his head down to look, Draco found that, yes, his wand had broken sometime in the tussle.

F***.

Ahem, pardon.

Glancing up at McGonagall, Draco stretched his mouth into a strained smile. “It must have cracked when one of us fell on it. Don’t worry, I’ll just get a new one.”

Inside, however, his mind had already flashed through several dark curses or “pranks” that can be “mysteriously” dropped upon the professor.

Perhaps a long-term rotting spell? No one would know anything, and it is a sure way to guarantee the death of the idiot.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes at him in her hawkish way. She opened her mouth, perhaps to say something potentially degrading…

_Ring! Ring!_

Oh, thank Merlin that was the bell! Draco sauntered back to where he had placed his bookbag while throwing a small smirk over his shoulder.

“Well, I look forward to dinner. Don’t any of you?”

In his head, however, he didn’t feel the confidence he exhibited. Inside he was just calming down from the near panic he had felt.

That was close. Way to close. A moment longer and he might have actually cursed his teacher. Being publicly known as a Dark Wizard… Is too dangerous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments Pls!


	12. Lordship

The next night, after Friday’s classes, after a Saturday full of Draco had stood in front of his bathroom mirror, accessing his injuries. There weren’t many, and most of them were simply bruises. Easily fixed with magic. Still, it was the intent behind them that was troubling.

Moody seemed to, in that short fight, actually want him dead. Why? Sure, no one actually bought the whole “my father was Imperiused” claim, but no one actually wants him _dead_. People were wary, were distrustful towards the Malfoy name, but actual hate? That was rare even between the people who _fought_ in the war.

Could it be that Moody feels the same thing as his several uncles and aunts who are currently in prison? The jealousy that the Malfoy’s had gotten off clean, while they wasted away to be forgotten.

There was also the curious incident of Moody calling _him_ the _Dark_ _Lord_ , instead of he-who-must-not-be-named.

Altogether, they paint a rather troubling picture, even if the very thought of Moody once serving the Dark Lord is atrocious. It’s _impossible_.

Draco discarded the thought after that.

***

Early the next morning, before the sun had risen half-way over the horizon, Draco was up and preparing for the day ahead. Today he might become Lord Lestrange.

Despite vehemently denying it the other night, Draco can feel the nervousness inside him. So many things could go wrong, and nothing was promised at the end of the day.

As a wise man once said, no pain no gain.

Who was that wise man anyway? Must not matter that much, since he doesn’t know.

Grasping his portkey in his hand, Draco squared his shoulders and waited for the clock to strike five.

When it did, the tug right behind his navel was just as uncomfortable as he remembered. Perhaps more so.

The portkey brought him straight to Gringotts.

In the early morning, the bank was fairly deserted. There were only a few goblin tellers up and about, Sharptalon was one of them.

As Draco appeared, Sharptalon hurried to greet him. It wasn’t a great greeting though.

“Good, you’re here. Follow me.”

His voice was even gruffer than usual. Looks like someone else isn’t happy with the time arrangements.

Draco followed closely after the goblin into the death-carts. Taking a seat and making sure to fasten his seatbelt, Draco waited for the “thrilling” ride to start.

With a lurch, the cart started off, instantly plunging into the depths. The dive was almost vertical, and Draco could feel his hair flapping in front of his face. Pushing it out of the way, Draco scowled heavily before hollering over the whooshing sound of the wind.

_“Where are we heading?!”_

The tunnels down here were dark, candles placed more and more further away from each other. The passing light from the flames briefly illuminating the short stature of the goblin in front of him.

_“To the Main Lestrange Vaults!”_

***

Stepping down from the cart was a great relief. Even the Malfoy vaults weren’t so far below the ground. Around them, the darkness seemed like a tangible entity, lurking just on the periphery of one’s vision. A single torch kept the blackness at bay, enlightening one pair of brass doors.

Sharptalon grunted from ahead, “If the vaults accept you as their master, the goblins will accede to your Lordship.”

Quite simple then. “So, I will need to enter the vault?”

A nod, “Yes, and the rest will be clear.”

Draco glanced at the door. It was rusted over in the corners, but where the initial design was still visible, there were intricate carvings of an age long past. Chimeras, dragons, and serpents, facing off against battalions upon battalions of wizards and witches. Staffs, swords, wands, each person had their own personalized weapon.

Taking in a deep, reassuring breath of damp underground air, Draco placed his hands upon the antediluvian gate.

Gradually, a feeling of lightness entered through his palm and fingers, spreading deliberately up his arms. When the feeling reached his elbows, it started to feel pressuring. When it reached his shoulders, it was uncomfortable. When it touched his chest, it began to feel painful.

Breathing became difficult, as if there was a force pushing down on his chest. Visually, the doorway began vibrating, shaking off a decade worth of dust and rust. Spasms traveled all around his body, and a thick ball of _something_ blocked off his airway entirely. A faint glow emanated from the doors, a soft yellow. Gentle compared to the burning ball of fire inside his chest.

Draco tried to gasp for air, but he was frozen, stuck gazing at the door as it emerged anew away from the neglect it had suffered.

On the door, written in silver, were the words: “Corvus Oculum Corvi Non Eruit”.

_A raven will not pick out the eye of another raven._

Loyalty then, the Lestranges surprisingly chose loyalty as their main characteristic. Better than the Malfoy family belief, “Sanctimonia Vincet Semper”.

_Purity will always conquer._

As the darkness spread to cover his eyes, Draco thought, _better to be trusted than to be p…_

***

The first thing he noticed when fighting his way back to consciousness was the smell. Earthly, not the usual smell of a medical wing. When he opened his eyes, Draco was greeted with the sight of dirt walls and a goblin. A hideous, very close up look at a goblin.

“Gah!” Draco scrambled backward on his cot. “Why am I…” then his mind caught upon him, “I wasn’t accepted, was I?”

Smirking in an amusing fashion, the goblin rumbled “No, you were accepted as Lord Lestrange, the sudden influx of familial magic simply gave your system a shock. If you weren't accepted, you wouldn't be awake right now.”

There _was_ a new feeling to his magic, wilder and more thrill-seeking, not as careful and restrained as it was before.

“If you hadn’t just broken your wand, it would be useless to you now anyway.” The unknown healer goblin spoke, “I’d recommend you go out to Ollivander’s, after you find a match, come back and we should have all the papers ready to be signed.”

Nodding slowly, Draco agreed. Rising from the small cot, he sluggishly stretched out his muscles. Finally walking out the door and up a steep staircase, making his way to the wandmaker’s shop.

***

The shop seemed closed from outside. The lights were off, and nothing stirred, even in the breeze. But a closer look would prove the opposite. Ollivander himself was already waiting right inside the door.

At Draco’s entrance, he smiled and murmured in that whispery voice of his, “A new wand, Heir Malfoy? Or would you prefer Lord Lestrange?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned to shuffle through the shelves. Meanwhile, his soft tape measurer flew out to wrap around Draco’s arms once again.

“Hm, what should we try this time? Something similar first, why not?”

He turned around with a black wand box, “Ten inches, Dragon heartstring, Hawthorn.”

Draco took the wand into his hand, but a burst a flame made Ollivander snatch the wand right back.

“Ten inches, Phoenix feather, Apple.”

This time Draco had barely touched the wand before it was taken out of sight again.

“Thirteen inches, Dragon heartstring, Ebony.”

“Twelve inches, Unicorn hair, Hazel.”

“Twelve inches, Dragon heartstring, Fir.”

“Ten inches, Dragon heartstring, Elder.”

“Ten inches, Phoenix feather, Elm.”

“Oh, very curious, very curious indeed! Perhaps your mixed magic now requires something a bit more special.”

Before Draco could ask, the wandmaker had bustled off to some deep corner. Coming back with a dusty coal-black box.

“Ten inches, Elm, but with the core of a horn, from a Horned Serpent.”

The wand taken out was toffee-brown in color, and its hilt was adorned with elegant carvings of rushing waves.

“I have created this wand as a type of experiment. Usually, any other core but the main three that I use might churn out wands of extreme personality. I was curious as to what the North American Horned Serpent may create.”

Draco took the wand in his right hand, instantly feeling the warmth of the magic rushing through him. It was similar to his first trip here, because the wand centers and calms his magic, but it also felt different, in a way. His magic felt more ready to fight, to confront, less calculated and smooth.

Turning to Ollivander, he bowed his head in thanks.

***

Gringotts was true to its word. All the papers were prepared.

Draco just wished there weren’t so many.

Rising through the sky, the sun shone brightly. It should be around 9 o’clock in the morning by now. The shops opened; customers were aplenty.

And Draco was stuck signing paper after paper.

No pain no gain.

***

The gain though was actually quite worth it. Not big, just an emerald ring with the Lestrange crest upon it.

What was behind the ring, however, was political power. Most paramount, was a seat in court, granting him the ability to vote.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we're here! The next chapter's about the announcement of the Champions!


	13. Finally, The champions

It is the night of the announcement. Dumbledore stood up from his throne, quite dramatically, and extinguished all the flames in the Great Hall, even more dramatically. The ring on Draco’s hand had been inlaid with a weak “notice-me-not” charm, so the media wouldn’t go crazy. Just yet.

“Now, the Goblet of Fire will choose. The champions!”

Alright, let’s see who will have to fight for their lives. Joy.

“From Beuxbatons, Fleur Delacore!”

Half-veela, important family from France, has a little sister. Perhaps the Goblet chose her because of her creature inheritance?

“From Durmstrang, Viktor Krum!”

Oh gee, what a surprise! Important family from Bulgaria, apparent Quidditch superstar, and shy. Who also suspiciously visits the library everyday… Without reading any of the books…

“And… From Hogwarts, Cedric Diggory!”

_Sigh_ , Hufflepuff, important family, rich enough Draco supposed, an only child.

“A _Hufflepuff_! Preposterous!”

“Just _how_ does the Goblet choose its champions?”

“Hogwarts is absolutely going to _lose_ this competition! How is a _Hufflepuff_ supposed to _represent_ us?”

Still smiling amiably, Dumbledore continued, “And now I would like…”

Then, the Goblet’s flames turned blue _again_. Shooting out another piece of paper, the entire student body waited with surprised anticipation.

“HARRY POTTER!”

… I, what…

EXCUSE ME?!

Why? How? Just… No, stop. It’s Harry Potter, of _course,_ he gets chosen for the deathmatch, never mind the fact that it should have been _impossible_. It was complete chaos in the Great Hall. The Gryffindors were wild, the Hufflepuffs were highly incensed, and everyone else was… Livid.

What an understatement.

_Two_ Hogwarts champions would upset the balance of the tournament, but the Goblet was a binding magical artifact. There was no way Potter would be able to back out. On the other hand, it shouldn’t be possible for the cup to make that big of a mistake. _Two_ champions?

The only way for that to be possible, was for an adult to have written Potter’s name, and placed it in the Goblet under a completely different school. Even then the results weren’t guaranteed! Ugh, who was he kidding? He probably wasn’t right with his guess, no way getting an underage to compete was that easy.

He has to do something about this, maybe get it investigated. Although the fact that everyone already seemed suspicious of Potter himself was ridiculous. Perhaps if he starts acting right now…

Wait wait wait. Why? He doesn’t have to do anything. Potter doesn’t need his help anyway, he has his fanbase! But still… Just sitting still doesn’t seem to agree with him.

_Sigh_

As Potter walked down the aisle, being stared at from all sides, Draco leisurely wondered aloud with a lilting sarcasm, “Who wants to kill you now huh? Potter? Ever the trouble magnet.”

Everyone heard him. Perhaps he should have thought this through… But whatever. Potter had looked over in astonishment at his declaration and winced slightly before responding with a teasing voice.

“I don’t know, it’s someone different every year.”

Surprising himself, Draco snorted quietly into his hand. The statement was just too _true_. And well, since each year it has something to do with the new Defense Professor…

“Blame the new DADA educator. 70% chance correct going off of past evidence.”

Potter had already reached the far side’s door, he smiled weakly at Draco before disappearing into it. Was he imagining it or did Moody flinch…?

“What was that Draco?!” Pansy whisper yelled immediately after Potter left the room. “Were the two of you joking together?!”

Ah yes, everyone _would_ think that was unusual.

Straining for a smile, Draco forced out a laugh. “No Pansy, we were just having a _non-violent_ conversation on true facts.” Then he turned his voice suspicious, “You don’t actually think _Potter_ would have gotten his name into the Goblet on his own?”

Pansy flushed a bright crimson red before ducking her face down to stare at her plate.

“No, I don’t.”

Draco grinned with fake sympathy, “Well, I’m glad that’s settled.”

***

Sticking his neck out for Potter was a definite _mistake_. Now the _whole school_ was abuzz with theories on their “Newfound Friendship”. Can’t a guy say something _not_ _mean, demeaning, or rude_ and not get rumors for it?!

At the _very_ least, Krum had sought him out after the Champions had their secret chit-chat.

Well, Krum had actually cornered him in a hallway, somehow just at the time when Crabbe and Goyle weren’t with him. Same thing really.

Draco was just minding his own business, walking along the hallway alone, when Krum came out from behind and grabbed his shoulder.

“Mal’oy, I t’ought you _didn’t_ ge’ along wi’h Harry.” Krum queried with a shifty look on his face. His great lumbering mass of a body seemed to always be in the wrong place.

Draco, on the other hand, was frowning in confusion at Krum’s priorities. He gently shrugged off Krum’s hand, and queried, “So… you dragged me here to talk about whether I _get_ _along_ with Potter? What does that have to do with you?”

Krum _actually_ _blushed_ at that! He twined his hands together before answering.

“Thi’ isn’ about Harry. About hi’ frien’…”

And then it clicked. Visits to the library, not reading any of the books… Why it’s because he’s distracted by a certain girl who is friends with Potter and visits the library every day!

A small rumbling laugh fought its way out of Draco’s mouth. He couldn’t help but tease Krum somewhat. Only a little bit.

“Aw, does wittle Krum have a crush? On Hermione Granger! Is it for her smarts?” Now Draco tilted his head and widened his eyes dramatically, “Her _luscious brown hair that flows like a stream in the wind? Or is it her pretty brown doe eyes that sparkle like evening stars? Maybe Krumey likes how she bites on her quills; do you want her to bite you like that?_ ”

Krum had started to look progressively more horrified as Draco gone on, but it isn’t the Oh-no-this-is-a-misunderstanding type of horrified, it’s the oh-dear-merlin-please-stop type of horrified. Which Draco happily ignored.

Finally, Krum cut in, good gracious Draco was running out of appropriate things to say, “No! No, i’ is not li’e tha’. I only…”

Draco cut in again, “Have a crush on Hermione Granger?” But Krum’s flaming red tomato face finally made him take pity, “So you came to ask whether I know anything about Granger, yes?”

Krum took a deep breath, probably wondering why exactly he was doing this.

“No’ Exa’tly. I wan’ her ‘o … know abou’ … my … crush?”

Krum _really_ was shy. Draco snorted again into his hand. This was pure gold! Globally known superstar can’t find the guts to ask out a muggle-born girl?

“That’s easy. Arrange a conversation with someone in her earshot. Reveal you have a crush. Then BOOM! Problem solved.” Draco then frowned and said more seriously, “Is that all you wanted to talk about?”

He was kind of disappointed, to be honest. Draco had thought Krum would value _other_ things more than a crush. Like maybe alliances or _staying_ _alive_ _in_ _the_ _tournament_.

Some of that disappointment must have bled into his tone. _Keep it together Draco!_ For Krum paused and carried on, acting as if the previous conversation had never happened.

“I woul’ be quite please’ if you woul’ allow me ’o speak to you, on some matters per’aining to the tournament.”

Inside his head, Draco started in surprise. Sure, staying alive is important but he didn’t expect Krum to want to talk about it to someone from another school.

Outside, Draco just inclined his head, shifting how he held his body to mirror Krum’s more formal tone.

“Of course, find me after my last class.” _Oops, was that too commanding?_

“Verily well.”

_Apparently not._

***

Krum found him without a problem. Draco simply packed up his books, went out the door…. And Krum was there. He didn’t stutter this time and was very straightforward.

“Mal’oy, are you rea’y?”

Draco can just _imagine_ the looks on all those fan’s faces right now, but he simply shook his head and shrugged the shoulder with the bookbag on it. Nodding in understanding, Krum followed Draco down into the dungeons.

The two of them didn’t speak all the way there, which was a little awkward, but Draco would be damned if he was the first one to speak. So, they both descended in silence.

Draco was just starting to gear up for subtle mental manipulation when abruptly, harsh whispers echoed in the shady corridors.

“Where is it? I need another canteen at least… Time’s almost up. I must hurry.”

Freezing where he stood, and also flinging out an arm to stop Krum in his tracks, Draco listened carefully.

“Darn it. How does that traitor organize this mess? I must hurry. He is depending on me.”

That voice… It sounds like Moody yet doesn’t. There’s a duality there that just screams ‘suspicious’.

“I must find it… Time is running thin. He will be angry if I fail.”

Who is this ‘he’? Why is time running thin? Find what? Unless… The only room near here of importance is Snape’s office.

Going off that assumption, this man must find a certain potion ingredient. If he can’t find it instantly, then he either doesn’t understand potions at all or is looking for a rare component. Then… The duality of his voice. What types of potions alter voices? No, that’s not the right question. Who is this person impersonating? No one new had come to Hogwarts, for he must be in Hogwarts if he’s braving Snape’s stores, hence someone that should be in Hogwarts is missing and replaced by another.

Bloody hell, why must every year be so damn complicated? If this man is using trickery to get into Hogwarts, subsequently, he must have something to do with Potter being entered into…

“Wha’ is ha’’ening Mal’oy?”

Ah, forgot about Krum.

Draco forced himself around to face Krum, he seemed to have waited patiently this whole time. Debating slightly with himself, Draco finally decided that Krum wasn’t an idiot, and ‘nothing’ wouldn’t go over too well with him.

Draco straightened and cocked his head towards the direction he thinks the man’s voice is coming from.

“He seemed suspicious, is all. Probably nugatory though, Severus has a lot of visitors sometimes.”

That wasn’t necessarily true, and if Draco used the opportunity to show off his level of familiarity with the Slytherin Head of House, nobody would notice.

At least nobody would consciously notice it.

As Draco and Krum arrived at the Slytherin common room, Draco barked out a short ‘stay here’ before entering. The earlier instance still hasn’t left his mind, but there was no time to dwell on it now.

Quickly straightening his clothes, Draco left the common room to once again ascend to the ground floor.

With Krum of course. He was just too quiet to be noticed much.

Finally, the two of them were outside in the sunshine. Now, Krum took the lead and walked straight towards the lake. Standing in the shade of a willow tree, Krum decisively turned to Draco and clarified.

“You know I’m ’urms’rang’s ’hampion, an’ you know tha’ we ha’e a cer’ain his’ory that some woul’n’t approve of.”

Draco simply nodded.

“Well, you ’on’t nee’ to know how I know, bu’ the firs’ roun’s abou’ Dragons.” Krum rolled his massive shoulders before continuing, “An’ ...I coul’ use your help with planning.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------  
Bonus Scene!  
(Not part of the story, just a part of my crazy imagination)

Krum: Alright, I know I'm a champion right now, but do you have any tips on tax evasion?

Malfoy: ... What type of tax evasion? Are you planning for it to happen or did it already happen and you're trying to cover it up?

Krum: Um... Covering it up?

Malfoy: Nope, sorry. Not helping you. Got payment?

Krum: What? No I don't but-

Malfoy: Obliviate!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Finally, the plot is moving! What do you guys think Krum would need help on? Especially since in Canon, Krum seemed to have scored lowest with the Dragons.


	14. And then Ferrets still appear

Studying the mandrake leaf before him, Draco wondered at Krum’s tactical planning skills. Before retiring for the night, the two of them have camped out in the library for quite a while, debating over what spells would be useful against a dragon. Krum had his eye on something called the ‘Conjunctivitis Curse’, which would theoretically blind the dragon if sent straight at its eyes.

Possibly useful?

Yeah sure, but it also carries a large chance of missing. Not only that, neither of them was quite sure _how_ the dragon would respond to it. It’s a wild card, and Draco wasn’t quite sure about it.

Some other hexes and curses they had looked over even involved the _Imperius_ _Curse_. Again, in theory, if the caster was powerful enough, it would work. Morals aside, of course. Krum had admitted that he did _know_ how to do it, he just wasn’t comfortable with it. Still, it was the safest spell in Draco’s very-vocal opinion.

They went through a few more books, including all the books that Draco had bought that summer, not that they were useful. Books like _‘How to Un-transfigure human transfiguration’_ Draco didn’t even want to _read_ because they were bound to be useless. Nevertheless, Krum was an avid researcher and they read all those books together.

Placing the leaf underneath his tongue, Draco wordlessly cast a sticking charm. The next month will be hell trying to talk normally while preserving this particular leaf. He just hoped that in the end, it will actually work.

***

Monday, the worst day of the week. When you still cling to that wonderful weekend in your memories.

But reality crashes down on your time and time again, to remind you that… It’s _Monday. Monday. Workday._

One such reminder took place early in the morning when Draco was still eating breakfast. An owl swooped in from above and dropped two letters into his morning fruit bowl. One with the goblin seal on it, one with a Formal Ministry stamp. With that, the tawny owl settled patiently in front of Draco. Curious, he reached out and read the first letter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**_Dear Lord Lestrange,_ **

****

**_Since you are underage and thus must still attend school, all scheduled Wizengamot sessions will be sent to you in advance on Monday. You may choose which ones to attend, if any, or cast your vote on paper immediately. You will be notified of unscheduled sessions on the day it occurs. Please send your votes back to Gringotts when you are finished._ **

****

**_Monday:_ **

**_-Reviewing of the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. (Undisclosed petitioner)_ **

****

**_Tuesday:_ **

**_-Application for Breeding rights between Fire crabs and Chimeras from the goblins. (Used for guarding vaults)_ **

**_-Petition for New Werewolf Security Laws from Umbridge._ **

****

**_……_ **

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the right edge, besides all the listed meetings, were three columns. One named ‘Nay’, one titled ‘Aye’, and one called ‘undecided’. Draco skimmed through all of the petitions and none of them seemed important in any way.

Shrugging, Draco ticked off all of the ‘Nay’ boxes and sent the letter back with the same owl.

The second letter held more upsetting content. It seemed to be one of a mass-produced letter structure, one to every active lord there was in Great Britain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**_Dear citizen of the wizarding community of Great Britain,_ **

****

**_As you should know, Britain is hosting the Triwizard Tournament, of which the winning prize is eternal glory and 1000 Galleons._ **

****

**_Because of a mistake in communication inside the Ministry, the 1000 Galleons promised to the Champion has mysteriously shrunken down to 782 Galleons. We, as the Ministry, ask humbly for your donation and silence on this matter._ **

****

**_Please enclose your donation in a letter and send it straight to the Minister._ **

****

**_Sincerely,_ **

****

**_The Ministry_ **

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Mysteriously’? Anyone with _half_ a brain can figure out that it’s the corruption inside the Ministry at work. More than one person as well, it seems, if 218 Galleons have gone missing.

To be fair, providing the Ministry with all 218 Galleons will be _easy_ for him, with all the Lestrange vaults _and_ his own Malfoy heirship vault. However, Draco was feeling pissed off at the Ministry and they can keep their grubby little hands to themselves. So, he flippantly took out his wand and burned the letter right at the Slytherin table. Much to the disgruntlement of the teachers.

Draco didn’t bother to see other people’s reactions, he swept out of the Great Hall without Crabbe and Goyle following for once.

***

It’s just… The Ministry was _so stupid_. First, the tournament being reinstated _in the first place,_ and then now the prize just _mysteriously disappearing_. _Something_ has to be done with the British government, or else it’s going to run itself to the ground. The only downside was that his father probably wouldn’t approve. Lucius _loves_ the current system.

It’s easy to exploit. Easy the maneuver. Easy to control from the shadows.

And if Draco was being honest, he would love that as well.

While stuck in that mind-battle, Draco projected a sense of calm as he lay atop a tree in the courtyard. In front of him positioned on his lap was a book, flipped to a random page, and he hasn’t read a single word in the half an hour he’s been resting on the tree.

Suddenly, there was unrest spreading through the Slytherins who were grouped underneath the tree. Glancing up with a disgruntled expression, Draco spotted Potter passing by the courtyard, seemingly in just as bad of a mood as him.

Below, there were already whispers of excitement. Perhaps he had gone too long without teasing the resident Golden Boy, but he didn’t really feel like getting into a fight… Watching one was just fine by him though.

Smirking, Draco leaned down and whispered into the midst of Slytherins, “Who wants a try at riling Scar head up? You’ll get free rein to say or do anything you want.”

With that done, Draco settled back on his throne with a feeling of satisfaction. He could see a few people’s reactions. Theo seemed to feel trepidation, Blaise was low-key interested. Pansy was fully vibrating delight.

As Potter crossed the middle of the yard, Pansy’s voice rung out loud and clear.

“How are you doing with the Tournament? Done ‘impostering’ as Hogwarts champion yet?”

Draco scrunched up his face slightly, was ‘impostering’ a word?

“Yeah, you should totally just give up the post. Even Diggory is a better choice than you.” Crabbe announced close behind.

Potter had stopped at the sound of the jibes and had turned towards them with an _I-am-so-done_ expression. Pinched face, angry eyes, clenched fists, and all that good stuff. He seemed slightly surprised that it wasn’t _Draco_ doing to mocking but was over that just as quick.

“Oh? I didn’t tell the Cup to choose me, if you have any problems, go and tell them to the bloody cup!!”

With that, he attempted to stomp away. Not as dramatic as Severus could have made it, but impressive for him anyway.

Crabbe wasn’t having that, he whipped out his wand, pointed it right at Potter’s back. He appeared to be muttering a petrifying curse, or something of a similar use…

“Oh no Laddy! Not on my watch are you cursing somebody!”

Another spell shot from a nearby archway, before Draco could so much as straighten up, Crabbe was on the ground on all fours. As a… Ferret? A ferret with brown fur and darker spots randomly arranged on its body.

Morose-and-Moody stomped his way towards them, while Draco anxiously jumped off the tree to scoop Crabbe into his arms. At least it seems Crabbe still had a human brain, as he instantly gravitated towards Draco’s back, away from Mr. Irritable.

Said Mr. Prickly glared at Draco with none too little hate.

“Thought you could get away with being a coward hm? Fight your own battles boy! Don’t send others off to do your dirty jobs for you! Just like your bloody father I swear.”

And Draco can swear that _this man just doesn’t know when to mind his own damn business!_ Being polite was never an option with this pile of meat.

“Well then, _Professor_ , thought you could ge' away with being a bully hm? Fight your battles with someone on _actually_ your level! Don’t pick on tho' who are obviously weaker than yourself.”

It was only after he finished that Draco actually thought through his words. Was that hypocritical of him?

“Are _you_ saying that? What would you call your interactions between Harry then?”

Seems Sulky has the same opinion, luckily, he only mentioned Potter…

“If you haven’t noticed, Potter and I are in 'e same year group. In addition, _I_ was never the one to start anything physical. He is fully capa'le of re'aliating. It’s part of what makes it fun.”

Draco started grinning slightly, it _was_ true. Arguments were fun, and if the other can retaliate, they were better. Even if they were against a certain crazy teacher while he can't bloody talk properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I got stuck after that... Just gonna leave it as a cliffhanger :)
> 
> Also: I'm trying to understand Wizard politics... It's very... confusing...


	15. oops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, I had a dream about my mom kicking my back so hard my spine broke. Just... What??? How did my brain even get that idea?

“Regrectusura*!” _Revert to natural form. Regret the change._

Was it stupid to perform magic he shouldn’t know somewhere so public? Maybe. Was it worth it for Sulky’s enraged and perplexed expression? _Absolutely_. But that enjoyment was short-lived.

Draco really bloody hated mandrake leaves.

Not only did they make speaking hard, but they also made winning an argument hard. Since stumbling over words in an argument was an easy point to exploit.

“Not so confident, now are you? Think through your words before speaking child.”

“Ha! Can’t even say your words right, _baby.”_

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Now shut up before you make a bigger idiot of yourself.”

Through it all, Crabbe, _the ungrateful prick_ , did nothing. Nothing! All of the other Slytherins did nothing at all! Just stayed quiet in the back. _Those disloyal bastards…_

Draco gritted his teeth, there _has_ to be a way to win this argument without speaking. A duel? But he has to make _Moody_ instigate it. A dare? A prank? An ambush? All of them were… acceptable, but not satisfactory. Perhaps if he manages to put this teacher’s job on probation… Now that would be something worthwhile.

“Of course, wouldn’t expect a traitorous Death Eater’s son to be that bright. Merlin knows what your father was thinking when he…”

“Killed? Murdered? Tortured? Well, as the Imperius goes, I don’t consider he was thinking all that much.”

Draco took extra care with that whispered sentence to pronounce everything correctly, despite the Mandrake leaf doing its best to mess up.

How to twist this? How to make a professor lose his job? If turning a student into a ferret isn’t enough…

Something violent. Something so clearly irresponsible. Something that simply cannot be smoothed over with money. That would give him the edge needed to send in a formal request for probation. There was already the fight he had with Draco, very unprofessional. A little extra passion and it’ll be easy.

“Maybe, Moody, you would have been better at your job if _you_ were Imperiused. Less annoyance on Crouch’s behalf, trying to control your paranoia.”

Draco was actually surprised that he could _see_ that comment strike deep. See it in Grumpy’s twitching eyes and fierce scowl. What could possibly infuriate him so much?

“Think you know everything? Boy! I’ll teach you a lesson! One your _father_ probably never gave you! Bloody disloyal brat.”

Morose pulled out his wand and _charged_ at Draco. _Like a bull, hehe. Damn it not the time!_ Time slowed down as adrenaline kicked in.

One slash on the right side. Dodge. Stun. Block. Twist. Fire back. Dodge. Spin. Fire.

Well, Moody definitely brushed up on these dueling skills.

The two of them circled each other, never quite getting close enough to land a strike, yet also never far enough away to appear weak.

As they danced their wild ballet, Draco noticed something weird. Every time Moody stepped backward; his heels would kick up slightly. As if kicking something out of the way. In curiosity, Draco sent another bombardment hex right at Moody’s chest. This time watching his feet.

Flying through the air, the red streak of magic narrowly rocketed past Moody’s shoulder. Indeed, he had repeated that suspicious heel movement. Was he kicking some cape or…?

Without warning, Draco suddenly felt a bright flash of pain travel up from his right side. Too late, he realized, he should have kept his eyes on the enemy’s wand. In his surprise and pain, he dropped his own wand, falling to his knees while clutching the wound.

Dimly, Draco could register Moody’s footsteps drawing closer. They were slow, languid, almost. However, most of his attention was focused on keeping his side from falling apart, not making any embarrassing sounds, and locating his wand.

Quickly tucking said wand into his robe pocket one-handedly, Draco flopped onto the ground in exhaustion. There was pandemonium around him… Or was it in his head? Moody wasn’t scoring in any easy hits, so maybe he had that bit of honor…

Was that black on the periphery of his vision? Oh… Seems familiar…

Draco felt a pair of arms lift him to his feet before blacking out.

***

Waking up in a Medical Wing was already becoming an annoyance. First the goblin’s, now the schools. Well damn, maybe he really shouldn’t put himself in situations that could get him hurt.

Draco lay face up on one of the school’s white medical beds. Whatever Madam Pomphrey had done it had miraculously gotten rid of the pain.

Laying for a short while, Draco focused on his breathing. Then the duel.

Really, it was a stupid mistake. It should be common sense to watch the enemy’s weapon! Not their bloody feet.

Although Moody’s sheer lack of regard for his position is surprising. Draco had thought he would need to send in a few more select words before Moody was crazy enough to straight-up harm a student.

With a sigh, Draco heaved himself into a sitting position. The whole space seems to be empty, with Madam Pomphrey nowhere to be seen. He glanced longingly at the doors that lead out of the area.

Perhaps if he’s quick about it…

“Draco, you wouldn’t need to, I actually have to speak to you.”

Jumping a foot into the air, Draco pulled his eyes from the doors that lead to sweet freedom. Beside him, newly uncovered from some invisibility charm, was the one and only Severus.

Hesitating slightly, Draco allowed his posture to slip into a slump.

“Of course, but right here?”

Pure black eyes stared back at him in slight amusement.

“Yes, right here.”

With a flick of his wrist, Severus warded the two of them inside a small private bubble. Never turning that penetrating stare away. With a sigh, he began the discussion.

“As your Godfather, I was notified, alongside your parents, of your recent ascension to lordship.”

_Oh shit._

“Of course, we were all quite impressed, but Lucius wishes to know _why_ you haven’t told him of your plan beforehand. Or stopped the Gringotts missive to tell him the miracle yourself.”

_Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit._

_Oh, Merlin. This is bad. They know now. THEY KNOW. THEY’RE GOING TO TAKE MY ADVANTAGE THEY’RE GOING TO…_

While nibbling his lip, Draco glanced, once again, longingly at the doors.

Usually, Draco doesn’t do many things for himself. Not because he’s selfless, no, because usually he just can’t summon the willpower to complete something.

Now that he actually has some power of his own, he doesn’t want _anyone_ else to get close to it.

_Anyone? Not even your family?_

“Well… Severus, I didn’t know about the Gringotts missive… And the whole plan was … _kind… of…_ rushed.”

One single raised eyebrow was his answer.

Draco squirmed slightly on the bed. It was _kind of_ the truth. He _did_ only get the idea while in Gringotts and finalized everything just a few weeks after. Considering that there are plans that stretched across _decades_ , the plan _was_ rushed. Right?

_Right?_

Okay, this wasn’t working if he can’t even convince his own damn brain.

Draco forced a strained smile onto his face before whispering, “Look, we can’t talk about this later. Alright? Not here, this is too public.”

For a while, Draco was afraid that Severus would refuse, but the potions master ultimately heaved a great sigh.

“Fine, Draco. But you must promise to speak with me tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... This is a short chapter, and I'm not really happy with it. But it's about time I posted so this is what you guys get. :,)
> 
> I only have the bare bones of this story planned, and every time it's just... Me spontaneously writing each chapter.


End file.
